


The Storm

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-14
Updated: 2005-12-14
Packaged: 2018-12-27 04:14:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12073311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: A storm crashes outside the loft and Brian tries to deal with it on his own.





	The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  
Author's notes: I've only seen seasons 3 and 4, so there might be continuity or history errors. I hope you like it anyway!  


* * *

Lightning, thunder, fear.

Pulling the pillow closer around his head, he fought back the whimper burning in his chest. Bile caught in his throat as the air vibrated around his prone, trembling body. Lightning flashed through the air and he jerked in surprise and fear.

Silence crackled as anticipation around him, broken like glass by the rustling of sheets. He froze, immediately hyper-aware of the man beneath the duvet beside him. Holding his breath, he tried to stop his body's fear from betraying him, from quivering and displaying his terror to the silently observing walls.

"Mmmm," came the throaty mumble and he tried to smirk at the hoarseness of it - they'd been fucking enthusiastically before the storm had turned shadows into ghosts. A hand snuck out from the cover and searched blindly for his warmth, followed by a tiny sound of frustration and the duvet falling off smooth shoulders. "Brian?"

The inquiry echoed around him in the dark and he reluctantly pushed the pillow off his head to reply. Before he could, the storm roared its anger and he dove back under the relative safety of the pillow, cursing the frightened sobs that shook him.

"Brian? What the fuck?" Wide awake, Justin sat up and reached towards his partner, startled and astonished by the uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. His hand gently touched the silky skin and he was surprised to find it clammy and cold beneath his fingers. "Brian!" he demanded, immediately moving closer to his lover. "Are you all right? What's wrong?"

He got no reply but when thunder broke around them like waves, he had his answer in his lover’s flinch, as if the sound had been a physical blow.

"Shhh," he murmured softly, curling against the trembling man. His lips found and kissed his temple gently before covering Brian's body with his own. "It's okay," he breathed, laying another kiss on his lover. "It's just a storm, it'll go away eventually, Bri."

"Now."

If he hadn't been so close, he wouldn't have heard the syllables within the breath. As it was, they barely registered and certainly made no sense.

"Bri, what? What d'you need?" His heart was slowing as the adrenalin faded from his system and Brian's warmth seeped into him, as clammy as he was. Lying atop him, it was easy to feel the shuddery swallow he forced down his throat. Justin held his breath as he waited for the response.

"Make it stop _now_."

The words were so choked and laden with emotion that Justin could barely believe they were coming from Brian, from _his_ Brian, who would have nothing to do with emotions, or feelings, or anything remotely human. He believed in fucking. No names, no regrets.

"It's only a storm, Bri," he told the man, feeling him jerk and his breath catch as the squall continued to invade the loft and stir the air around them. Biting back emotions of his own, Justin wondered if this was how Brian had felt in the face of his nightmares - helpless to soothe away night time fears. 

Reaching for the duvet, Justin wrapped it around the both of them as he waited for his lover to speak or move. Without a word he threaded his fingers through the older man's hair, doing his best to remind him that he was loved and safe. When the blond felt him begin to relax beneath him, he allowed himself to slide back into a doze, breathing deeply from his lover's scent and lulled by his warmth.

He awoke again to a cut-off cry that became sobs muffled in his neck. Instinctively he wrapped himself around his partner, doing his best to cover as much of the trembling flesh as possible. Minutely Brian seemed to relax, just reacting to the closeness of his lover.

"I hate storms," he mumbled into the blonde's shoulder, cursing himself for sounding like such a baby but unable to stop the fear that quivered like ants beneath his skin.

"I never knew that," the young man admitted absently, holding him a little tighter when he jumped in response to the next crack of thunder. His fingers once more found Brian's rich mop of hair as his other hand rubbed gently across his back. The dual caress served to comfort him further and he slowly released his death grip on Justin’s ribcage.

Biting his lip against its trembling and reminding himself that he was not a baby, Brian began to pull away but his lover wasn't having it.

"Stay," the blonde mumbled, his voice soft with exhaustion and, Brian hoped, love. He tried to seem reluctant as he let himself be gathered into Justin's arms, but he needed the safety the other man's embrace seemed to bring.

Forcing his eyes open, even in the darkness under the duvet, hazel met clear blue. He swallowed, forcing back everything that was trying to spill out of him and instead ducked his head to kiss the blond softly, hoping to convey his gratitude without saying the words. Letting himself be drawn into the kiss, Justin pulled back with a faint smile and kissed Brian’s forehead, luring him back into his embrace.

Nestling against the smooth, warm skin, Brian listened to his lover’s heartbeat until he couldn’t hear the thunder anymore, until it began to recede from the skies and took his fearful memories with it. Only then did he let himself relax, let the terror drain out of him.

In the morning he knew that Justin would ask him why he was so afraid of storms, demand to know why the crack of thunder terrified him, why it echoed with a memory of footsteps outside his room. He would want to know why each roar was a blow remembered, each flash of lightning was a white pain inside his mind. Justin would ask, beg, cajole, then grow angry at his short silence, his wisecracks, his quips, his defences. Brian knew that one day he would be unable to snark his way out of his pain, but only hoped that the young man wrapped tightly around him would forgive him his weakness like he had tonight. He dared to hope that the man might love him even if he were to admit that he was scared.

“It’s okay to be scared.”

He froze with surprise when the words tickled his ear, startled because he hadn’t realised his partner was still awake. Turning wide-eyes towards the other man, he pushed the fear back and tucked his face underneath the smooth, strong throat. He let himself focus on the feel of soft breathing against his hair, the pulse below his cheek. His fingers intertwined with Justin’s like they always did without conscious thought and he drew in a slow, deep breath of his lover.

“I hate storms,” he admitted for the second time that night. The blonde nodded and kissed his head without a word, silently urging him on. “Th- they make me remember the times when my da-“ he swallowed thickly and tried to piece together his broken voice. “When Jack would come into my room piss drunk and furious about something.” Shuddering helplessly, he took a moment’s comfort from Justin’s arms around him, the warmth of hands upon his golden, scarred skin. “He always ended up in my room when it was raining,” Brian breathed, voice barely tipping off his tongue. 

The blonde lover in his arms heard every word; he was locking them up tightly with his anger and his love. He was silent, knowing that if he interrupted, made his presence known or even reminded Brian that he loved him – like he longed to whenever he heard his lover’s voice strain and break under a weight of memories – then Brian would shut down and turn off the emotions that were like a ball of fire in his gut, gnawing at him until he was nothing but to a hollow shell. Brian would whip out some smart-ass comment to hide the vulnerability, the pain in his eyes and he would shut Justin out once more. After working so hard to get his partner to let him in, Justin wasn’t about to mess it up with a misplaced endearment; so he remained silent and let his hands, arms, lips and warmth remind Brian that he wasn’t alone.

“He’d always whale on me when it rained like this,” came the whisper and Justin would have thought his voice hollow if he hadn’t known that its softness meant more than its strength. “I guess-“ he bit his lip to keep it from trembling and reminded himself yet again that Justin loved him, that he actually meant the words he said, that he wasn’t leaving. “I guess he thought no one would hear me.” He snorted and the blonde was almost surprised at how bitter it sounded, “Like anyone was listening. Joan always knew what was going on, she just didn’t give a shit.”

Justin’s heart squeezed painfully to hear Brian talk about his own mother like that. Unfortunately he knew all too well that it was true. She was worse than an absentee, Brian had told him once, she was there, she just didn’t care. She was part of the reason the older man couldn’t bring himself to say the three words that rolled so easily off his lover’s lips. She was definitely the reason he didn’t believe them. Justin thought he would probably feel the same if his mother had said, ‘I love you,’ one minute and turned her back on him the next.

“I- I hate that I’m afraid.” His voice sounded so small, so timid, so much like a child that Justin was hard pressed not to react and fought against the tears in his throat. “I don’t want to let him get to me anymore,” Brian was saying, softly, as if to himself. “He’s fucking _dead_ , and I’m still fucking scared,” he spat, his voice rising and breaking at the end, telling Justin he wasn’t so much angry as still frightened. 

The blond continued to caress his hair, trying to sort out some kind of reply in his head. He knew what he wanted to say – that Brian’s father was an asshole and an idiot – but he didn’t know what he _should_ say. So he settled on the only thing that he really knew for sure.

Taking a deep breath, he told his lover softly, “I love you, Bri.” The man took a breath to interject, so he hurried on, “And you’re not a pussy, a baby, a child, or weak for admitting that you don’t like storms. Everyone’s afraid of something. Hell, you know that I hate heights and I don’t have a good reason for that. I just…” He paused and trembled faintly, smiling ever so softly when Brian rubbed his arm in an effort to soothe him; he still couldn’t believe that people had to ask why he loved this man so much. “Anyway, my point is, it’s okay to be afraid. I’m always going to be here to help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” came the anticipated reply, but there was no sting in the rebuke. There was barely any strength, all Brian had left was exhaustion. “I don’t want to _need_ help,” he mumbled, settling his chin back against Justin’s shoulder.

The younger man nodded. “I know, I just had to say it.”

“I know.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, Justin’s hands still tracing faint patterns on Brian’s smooth, warmer skin. the older man’s breathing calmed and began to slow as he lost himself in his lover’s touch, focusing on the sounds and smells around him as he lay safe beneath the duvet, hidden from the world and the nightmares straining to reach him. He shut his eyes tightly and drew in a sharp breath, before prying them open and searching the darkness for the deep sky-blue that he needed so much. Seeing that he was being watched, even in the inky blackness, he lifted his head and brushed his lips against the younger man’s. Justin responded immediately, claiming the mouth against his in an increasingly passionate kiss. His hands became more insistent on Brian’s body and soon both were grasping, kneading and caressing.

“I love you,” Justin gasped as they slid into one another, the blanket still hiding them off from the world and the storm outside. Brian’s lips ground against his hungrily, mouthing the words he couldn’t bring himself to say. His young lover felt them and smiled, head snapping back as his body bowed with pleasure.

When they were wrapped once more in each other’s arms, Justin poked his head out from under the cover. Brian grumbled about the cold air he was letting into their sanctuary, then griped louder when the younger man poked his ribs and insisted that he come out from underneath.

“No way,” was the immediate response, sounding much more like the man he knew so well. “I’m warm and, up until a second ago, I was comfortable. Get your ass back here, Sunshine,” he demanded, throwing in the nickname to tempt the man.

Sighing, Justin slid back beneath the cover and let Brian wrap his arms tightly around him. He bit back a bright smile in the darkness and murmured, “The storm’s over, you know.”

“I know,” came the soft, unexpectedly thoughtful reply from his lover.

“You don’t have to hold me anymore,” Justin whispered reluctantly, giving the older man an out from the close physical contact that at times he seemed apprehensive about.

“I know,” was the only verbal response he got, followed by a soft kiss on his pale collarbone and the ghosting of silent words across his skin.


End file.
